


The Isle of the Lost

by RogueCerise1891



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueCerise1891/pseuds/RogueCerise1891
Summary: The Isle of the Lost isn't a place for a man like him. Mal knew that from the moment her eyes had landed on him the first night. She wasn't meant for him and he shouldn't indulge her. Yet, she couldn't not want him. Her mother ruined everything she touched and Mal Fey can't seem to shake her birthright to do the same.As things between herself and Ben seem to be on the road to self combustion, things at the club begin to feel wrong. Things at the club never felt right, considering her uniform was little more than hot pants and lingerie and she served drinks to men who's focus was solely on the girls dancing on stage if it was good night. A bad feeling looms over her like a shadow every time she steps through the door after she meets Ben. The idea is that she be watched and ogled every time she walks the floor, but the eyes that she feels following her don't feel salacious or eager. The eyes are cold and leave her looking over shoulder more than even her dysfunctional upbringing did.The Isle wasn't the place for him, but after he shoulders his way into her life she starts to wonder how long it'll be the place for her.





	1. Chapter 1

The Isle of the Lost wasn’t a good place. It was a place of sin and sadness. Mal could tell herself it was where she belonged all she wanted, but it was no secret she would kill to get out.

“Your mother danced.” She rolled her eyes at Gaston’s half-assed attempt to sway her to see his version of reason. “You have the looks, the brains and the, well, everything. You should be up there.”

“I am up there. I’m up there from 6 pm to 10 pm, singing my ass off for clientele that doesn’t even hear me.” She turned to pointedly glower up at the girls as they turned and tantalised the afternoon crowd of day drinkers and lonely souls. “Wednesday and Friday. Every other day, every other hour, I’m down here smiling and serving them as they leer and grope. That is the extent of myself you will bully me into giving. I will not be on one of those poles.”

“Well, if not you, then-.”

She grabbed her boss, mentally scoffing at the idea, and pulled him close as she growled. “You will not approach E. Here is how this is going to go. You will put her as far away from those private rooms as you can. She will never be asked to dance and you will never make a pass at her. You get me, Gaston?”

His face paled as she laid out her demands, like she always did when he tried use her best friend as a bargaining chip. Sure, he was the man sitting in the manager’s office. Was he the owner, though? Not even. Her mother, wherever she was, was still running the show from her hidey-hole. Mal would get random communications from her, all of them telling her to bide her time and stay off the stage in a stripping capacity until whatever machinations her mother was working were complete.

The Isle had been her father’s once upon a time, but her mother managed to grapple it from him during their short-lived romance. Mal had only met him a handful of times and it was usually in quick passing after her folks had another fight about something or other. When she was little, she used to imagine the look in his ice blue eyes was regret at leaving her to her mother’s control and care. As she got older, she realised and embraced that it was simply regret at her existence.

She shook off her musings regarding her past. Gaston was before her, looking a little less than intimidated after she had zoned out. Mal sneered and yanked him across the table he had been attempted to lean against suavely before she’d started threatening him. He let out a panicked yelp, wincing as the table dug into his stomach.

“Do you get me?” She smiled, satisfied, as he nodded vigorously. “Good boy. Now, go back to being intimidating. There are some creeps trying to make time with Dezzy.”

He scowled and straightened himself quickly after Mal shoved him away from her. She looked down at her watch. She had 15 minutes to get ready for her shift and getting caught by Gaston to be offered a time slot on the centre stage was not something she had needed.

As she made her way to the changing to rooms, she took in one last survey of the floor. As her gaze swept over the crowd, it paused at the bar. There sat a broad shouldered beast of a man. He was watching her, unabashed, as his drink was suspended at his lips. She met his gaze, challenging him. He tipped the glass, finally gaining control over his hand, at least. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, dismissing him. Despite the music filling the space, she thought she heard him chuckling.

Mal studiously avoided the bar when she wasn’t filling orders. She knew he wasn’t there anymore, which was ridiculous. She shouldn’t be able to feel his presence like a weight on her shoulders. Still, she did and thus she avoided lingering at the last place she’d seen him be idle. She knew he was opening and closing tabs as the night wore on. He changed sections, dealing with the different waitresses working.

“He leaves good tips.” She jumped, nearly dropping the glass she was holding. “Careful there, M.”

“I wouldn’t need to be if you wouldn’t sneak up on me, E.” She finished loading up her tray. “Also, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Either way, you are about to. He’s in your section now.” Evie sauntered off, manoeuvring through the crowd easily, as her blue wig caught the low lights of the club.

Mal felt her whole body stiffen, and she looked around the floor as she sashayed through the crowd with her full tray. Her eyes landed on a table that been vacated as she was filling the order currently occupying her tray. It had been cleared, wiped down and reoccupied.

She took him in as he toyed with something on the table. His shoulders were broader than she had originally thought. His suit jacket was on the back of his chair and this button down shirt had the sleeves rolled up. His head was lowered as he focussed on the object he was fiddling with, but she’d seen enough of it to know he was gorgeous.

She nibbled her lip thoughtfully. She could trade with Evie or one of other two girls working the floor that evening. The thing of it was, even as she considered it, she knew it wasn’t an option. Switching would put the others close to the private rooms. Mal didn’t want to be in that section, but she was the only one with the proverbial balls to handle the dicks who occupied the section.

She finished serving the table, smiling back the snarky comment she wanted to make when one of them snaked his hand up her shorts to grope her ass. She straightened, setting her shoulders before spinning on her purple stilettos to face her new customer. His gaze was focused on his hands as she sashayed over, her purple hair flashing under the lights.

Unlike the other girls, her hair wasn’t a wig. Mal’s curse was that was born into this, and therefore embraced it as if it were all she was meant for. His eyes rose to her as she approached, as if he were as tuned into her as she was him. She surpassed a sigh as she came to the understanding that he had been watching her all night. The slow manoeuvring into her section had planned, deliberate.

“How’s it going, handsome?” He leaned back and wasn’t at all abashed as he checked her out. “See something you like,” she paused as she leaned forward to slide the drink menu closer to him, “on the menu?”

“What would the lady recommend?”

She felt her ears heat up at the gruff sound of his voice. It promised things she couldn’t offer him. It promised things she was suddenly worried she wanted to.

“Moscow Mule.” An eyebrow shot up. “What can I say, I don’t like martinis but vodka tastes good with lime and ginger beer.”

“So, no martinis.” He leaned forward, hand gripping whatever he’d been occupied with, and crossed his arms on the table. “What’s the wine selection like?”

“Nonexistent.”

“That’s what I figured. Let’s start with a beer and maybe your number. We’ll see where things go from there.” He smiled up at her, and it wasn’t a smirk. He genuinely had the softest, lopsided smile she’d ever seen walk itself into this godawful place. “When does your shift end?”

“How about I get you that beer and maybe some time with one of our girls that you’re actually here to see.” His eyes dropped down the seat across from him pointedly. “Right. Nice try, handsome.”

She quickly moved to put an order for his drink. Realising she’d forgot to ask what kind he wanted, she got him a lager. When she returned to his table, he took the drink without question and slipped her a $20. She raised her brows in surprise, but he just shook his head and took a drink. The evening faded into night. He didn’t move sections the rest of the time he was there. She got him beers and he tipped her every time.

By the time midnight was rolling around, he’d taken to leaving his unlocked phone where she could see it. “I’m not giving you my number, handsome.”

“Florian.” Her hand paused on its journey to the empty he had sitting by his elbow. “Call me “Florian.”

“Sure. Florian.” She smirked and played with the bottle’s label, both hands free since her tray was tucked under her arm. “Suppose you want my name?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not a letter.” She cocked her head and he began pointing around the room to the waitresses that had been working the evening shift and had stayed to work til close. “E and D. I catch on quick. So, no letters.”

“Letters make names, Florian.”

“True. So, more than one letter.” She sighed and abandoned her mission to obliterate the label. “Please, Green Eyes.”

“How about that? No.” Someone shouted to get her attention and she was swiftly reminded that it was a packed house on a Saturday night. “Bertha. You can call me Bertha.”

He laughed, shoving his chair back from the table. Her eyes widened at the sheer mass of him. She’d thought he looked beastly folded over the bar, but that image was nothing compared to the full view of him. His tapered waist was on display since his shirt was tucked into his slacks. The light blue offset his hazel eyes and chestnut locks so wonderfully. Those very eyes were twinkling down at her from his below his fringe.

“Bertha,” he pulled out his wallet and produced a couple of hundreds. “Who would be so cruel as to name a girl such a thing.”

“My mother was truly evil.” Her throat was dry as he slid the money into the front pocket of her too tight hot pants. “Florian doesn’t make yours much better.”

“So very true.” He gathered his coat and slid the chair back under the table, as if he were indeed a gentleman and not a patron of the Isle. “I’ll see you soon, Bertha.”

She gulped and her eyes subconsciously slid down to watch his backside as he strode out of the club. Evie passed him on his way out and the two shared a friendly smile. Mal’s heart skipped a beat. Evie then did a quick turn to mouth a quick “oh my god,” to Mal with wide, eager eyes before returning to her duties.

Jay spied Mal from his post near the door and his eyes flicked from her to the door where Florian had just exited. She never talked to customers once they’d been paid up. She didn’t watch them with a look close to petrified after the tips had been collected. She didn’t get thrown off or charmed.

Florian did all that, somehow. She was completely messed up after one encounter with an honest man on the road to sin. She was pretty far down that road herself and had a feeling that if he asked, she join him for his ride to Hell.

“You okay, M?” Jay quickly ushered her into the back area. “Did that guy mess with you?”

“No,” she licked her lips and took a few deep breaths. “No, he isn’t like our normal guys. I don’t know, he’s just different, you know? I wasn’t expecting it and it was unnerving is all. I’m good.”

He narrowed his eyes, the dark brown almost black. They had been warm and mischievous when they were kids. Time and trouble had hardened them as they all found themselves slaves to the Isle. Jay was no different, and she wondered if she should feel bad about that. Like every other time she was faced with the realty that was her friends loss of hope. A loss she had facilitated and nearly encouraged. If her friends were trapped like her then she wasn’t alone, and fuck if that didn’t make her feel a little better about herself. So when she considered feeling bad about dragging them down with her by leading them to The Isle of the Lost, she dismissed it and simply felt a minor comfort in not being alone.

“How much did he tip you?” She raised her brows. “Shit, enough you won’t say? Holy fuck, Mal.”

“Yeah, Jay, holy fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mal waltzed into the gym like she owned it. Mornings, 6 to 8, were her happy time. Evie usually joined her, but she had had a date with some new big-wig or some such the night before. Her friend and roommate hadn’t come home, but Mal let it slide. She was inclined to worry about Evie when she was gone all night on her dates, normally. The GPS check in she’d sent over the group chat had shown the “date” location to be on the good side of town and Mal allowed herself a moment to hope that her friend had somehow landed a good one.

She checked in at the front desk, quickly scanning her membership card, and pulled out her old iPod to begin scrolling through her playlists. The music, like the device, was old since her computer had crapped out a few years ago. The old monster of a music player had a finicky connection port and refused to synch up to her iTunes even before the laptop had died, either way.

She dropped her bag off in a locker, not bother with a lock since she had nothing of value on her. Her clothes were so threadbare they were almost indecent and her wallet was barren but for a couple of emergency bills and her license. Her phone was left in the side pocket, but was a flip phone almost as old as her iPod.

Hands free of her belongings she made her way back into the main area, beelining for the treadmills. She started warming up and had just hit play when the treadmill was stopped. She blinked in surprise at the hand that had pulled the emergency stop sensor.

“Well, hello, Bertha.” She turned and her mouth popped open in shock at the man leaning against the console of the machine beside hers. “I have to say I’m happy to see you outside of work.”

The way he said work was so casual, easy. It was as if her job was any normal gig and not as a cocktail waitress who wore hot pants and pushup bras for Benjamins. No, this man that caused butterflies in her stomach was smiling at her as if she were just any other girl.

“Handsome.” He snickered and leisurely gave her a hot once over that somehow managed to not be salacious. “I was just about to get my sweat on, so if you don’t mind?”

He hummed in understanding as he played with the emergency sensor, allowing it to wrap around a finger before it loosened and wrapped around, again, going in the opposite direction. “Oh, sorry, would you like to join me?” He ignored her sarcasm and handed over the device. She replaced it, grumbling when his hand remained outstretched her. He flexed his fingers suggestively. “What?”

“Well, your headphones have been abused to the point of ungodly unravelling. Do they even work?” She nodded with annoyance in her eyes. “Both of them?” Her eyebrows shot up and her scowl was mighty. “Then give one over. I don’t have my headphones and it would be a dick move to play my music over the speaker on phone.”

“I knew you were a goodie-two-shoes.” Still, for reasons she didn’t want to explore, she handed over the left ear headphone. “You won’t like my music.”

“I’m sure I won’t.” He was ever so pleased with himself over his victory. “Hit it, Bertha.”

She snorted and did as he requested. She started her treadmill, again, ignoring his utter hysterical breakdown beside her as the first song began playing. He wasn’t able to run, stumbling along with his machine’s slow pace as the song filtered through to tickle his funny bone.

Then, he started singing along. “And the seventh thing I hate the most that you do,” he paused and she shrieked in horror when he leaned over to belt out the last bit of the first chorus at her. “You make me love you!”

He waggled his eyebrows, singing along with the whole damn song. She blushed and tried to put a stop to the rapid beat of her heart. When that song was done she breathed in relief. The reprieve didn’t last long as he sang the next song, and the next. By the time she was done with her treadmill block, he had quietly sung her every silly love song she’d been listening to since high school.

“I’m not gonna lie I had pegged you for a My Chemical Romance and Good Charlotte kind of girl.”

“I am that kind of girl.” She blushed as his fingers grazed her palm when he handed over the borrowed headphone. “I never pegged you for a Miley Cyrus fan, yourself, Florian.”

“We both were surprised today, then.”

She grudgingly let him tag along with her as she went to the free weight section. It ended up being rather beneficial for her as he had technical advice to give on form and suggestions on different movements she could incorporate. He managed to somehow help her and get his own work done at the same time. Every once in a while he would coax her into singing a few versus of the song she was on and he would take over, continuing to sing to her.

“So, just out of curiosity, how is that better than playing music on your phone?”

He shrugged as they took a break at the water fountain for him to refill his bottle and allow her to get a few gulps down. “I like singing to you.” His eyes twinkled as she scoffed to cover how flattered she actually was. “Can I get you a smoothie from the joint next door? We can walk and I promise It’s not a date.”

“You want to buy me a smoothie and it’s not a date?”

“No.” He shook his head definitely. “I just want to get to know you and I want a smoothie. Seems to me that if I want to satisfy both needs at the same time, that’s the best way to do it.”

“I don’t know, Florian.” He gave her puppy dog eyes that had her flustered and blushing. “I don’t date. I especially don’t date patrons of the Isle.”

He sidled up to her, bracing his arm on the wall over her head. She leaned back, feeling him all over her despite the fact that he was being very careful not to touch her. Her breathing hitched and his eyes were hooded as he looked down at her.

“To clear up that matter, I’m not a patron.” She lowered her brows in confusion. “I like you, not the cheap beer. I was having a bad night and I had heard about the place from a friend of mine. I only planned on stopping for the one drink, but then I saw you.”

“Oh.”

He sighed and dragged his eyes almost reluctantly away from her to look over his shoulder in consideration. “Just this once, Bertha. I’m not asking for your number or anything more. Please.”

She nodded. She was hungry, the smoothie shop he suggested was good and he wasn’t the worst company. His look of relief was startling, even considering all the startling things he’d done since she’d first spied him at the club. She wondered when he wouldn’t take her by surprise.

“I’m telling you, this is the best I’ve ever had.” She snickered at his groan of food induced ecstasy. “I’m serious, Bertha. I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I love smoothies. This thing is the unholy, delicious off spring of the two.”

The PB&Jammin’ smoothie he was demolishing was an enigma and even managed to look appetising to her despite the fact it shouldn’t exist. She chewed the straw in her mouth to keep the smile at bay his antics were causing. Her Cali Sunrise was pretty good, as well, but her stomach was feeling off under his constant attention.

“Yours taste okay?” She nodded and took a cautious sip to please him when his lips turned down in concern. “We can get you something else if you want. Most of the smoothies are really good if you don’t like it.” She shook her head and resumed demolishing the tip of her straw destractedly. “What’s wrong?”

“My name isn’t Bertha.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t bother you that I lied about my name?”

“I lied about mine. Does that bother you?” She shrugged, ignoring that it kind of did. “I can tell you my real name, if you want. I trust you.”

She fiddled with her cup, “no. You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t tell you my name, or I shouldn’t trust you?” She shrugged, again, absently spearing the cup in her hands with her nails. “Well, that’s too bad, because I do. My name is Ben.”

Her smoothie was turning sour in her stomach. “Come to the club tonight.” He chuckled around his next gulp. “I”m serious. I would like to see you there tonight if I could. I understand if you won’t. It’s not a great place and you definitely don’t belong there, but,” he cut her off with a nod.

“I was planning on coming, anyway. I hadn’t seen you since I was there last week before today. I was kind of wanting to check on you.” His voice was low and he finished off his drink, shaking the empty cup thoughtfully before taking on last experimental suck and tossing it. “I’ve been anxious, I guess. I get thinking about you in there, getting leered at and felt up. It’s your job, and I get that. Doesn’t stop the kick to the gut I feel, for some reason, when I replay all the times those men took liberties that night.”

“What would your girlfriend say?” It was his turn to shrug. “So, you have one?”

“Yeah. She’s the reason I was there. I don’t want to get into to it, because I’ll just get angry, start ranting and you don’t need my problems on your shoulders.” He tipped her cup his way to take a quick taste. “Besides, we’re friends. I’m allowed to have those, and friends look out for each other. They workout together and worry about each other. They drop in to say “hi,” at work and make plans. It’s all gravy.”

“Gravy, huh?” She quirked a brow at his easy smile. “Okay then. I look forward to seeing you tonight, friend.”

She wasn’t surprised when Jay and Carlos quickly exited their apartment, conveniently next to her’s, to greet her when she got home. “Carlos, perfect. I want to make some last minute changes to my show tonight.” He nodded enthusiastically as the two followed her in. “Oh, Evie, glad to see you alive.”

Evie stretched on the couch and gave a lazy giggle. “Of course I’m alive. Oh, Mal. I had such great a night.”

“Did he actually take you out?” The giggle stopped and Mal rolled her eyes. “Evie, be realistic. That’s not a date, that’s a booty call.”

“You just don’t know romance.” Mal considered that romance was more like her non-date that morning with Ben rather than Evie’s date with whoever. “He sent me a really nice car.”

“Sure, and the car took you where?”

Evie huffed before she raised to sit and glower at her roommate. “Whatever. I don’t want to tell you anymore.” She nodded a hello to the guys as they settled in varies spots on the secondhand furniture that decorated the apartment. “Where were you? I was expecting you to be home by the time I was. I’ve been here for over an hour.”

“I was busy.” Mal moved through the small entry way to the lousy excuse of a kitchen. “I’m gonna make some cookies. Carlos, I want to change some lighting for my slot and make a few song changes.”

“About time you changed it up a bit. The act was getting a bit stale.” She felt him watching her through the opening of the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living space. “Not that we don’t love hearing you sing “I Love Rock and Roll” twice a week.”

The others all had a good laugh at her expense as they did poor jobs of imitating her smokey vocals. “Hey. I have some serious rocker chops in me, alright. They don’t want that at the club, though.” She grumbled as she quickly gathered up ingredients to make her signature chocolate chip cookies. “Evie, where are the chocolate chips? I thought we had bought more.”

“In the pantry. Wait,” and the woman paused as she moved to the bar to watch the Mal begin the task before her. “Why are you making cookies?”

“No reason. I just felt like baking.” She felt the weight of their questioning gazes as she baked while forcing Carlos into working on her song list. After fine tuning as best they could without his gear or access to the clubs equipment, Mal was done baking and eager to kick them out. “Okay. You boys need to leave. I need to get ready. Carlos, I’ll meet you at the club to go over the lighting and all that other shit.”

She hissed when the cookie sheet she grabbed was hotter than she anticipated. Jay popped his head in to check on her at the sound of her distress. “You okay, Mal?” She nodded, a glower on her face as she examined the angry red on her palm and fingers. “What’s gotten into you? Sunday’s are for baking, not Wednesdays.”

“Nothing, Jay. I’ll see you at work.”

She dodged Evie, which wasn’t hard since she was dead on her feet as it was. Her date with her mystery man had involved very little sleeping, Mal guessed. She wondered what that would be like, to just dive into a relationship and enjoy it. If it weren’t for Evie’s low points when her suitors inevitably left her high and dry, it would appear more appealing. Easy.

She made sure Evie was passed out good and hard in her room before she packed up the cookies to take with her. She’d thought a lot during her time with Ben that day. During the lunch non-date, she mulled and considered. When she was baking, and when she was showering the remnants of her day with him away, she’d finally made her decision.

Mal didn’t want romance. She didn’t want a saviour. She wanted to be bad and she wanted it be easy. If she was being truly dastardly, she wanted to corrupt.

Sighing exhaustion, she towel dried her hair and crashed on her bed in the room she shared with Evie. She was home tired and mentally exhausted. The encounter with Ben being the least of her worries. Her mother had sent her a cryptic text from an unknown number and she was on edge.

Slipping into darkness, she let the worries of her life drift away to sleep.

She took to the stage that evening, eyes locking with Ben’s at the bar.

“You don’t own me,” she breathed into the mike. “Don’t try to change me in any way.”

She hoped he understood what she was saying with her song set. It was completely new. It was a message to him.

Touch me. Take me. Wreck me. You can do all things but keep me.

He watched her for the whole set. He even had eyes on her during her breaks when she would walk the floor and dull out special attention to regulars. She had drinks with high tippers, he ordered shots. She sashayed past him without engaging him, and he ordered the same lager she’d brought him the night she first served him.

When the show ended, she quickly gathered her things and made made her way to the bar to take a seat beside him. “How’s your evening going, Florian?” He chuckled darkly, shoulders tense as he took a swig from his bottle. “So, listen. I wanted to offer you my cookie.”

He sputtered and beer dribbled down his chin. “Cookies. I want to offer you my cookies.” She smiled innocently at him, nose twitching with humour. “You okay there,” she paused and leaned into him, gently laying her hand on his arm as she breathed into his ear, “Benny-boo.”

His eyes were hooded when he swept his gaze over her. “I don’t think I can take you up on that, Bertha. I have other cookies that I’m currently committed to enjoying.”

“It’s a limited time offer.” He shifted away from her and she wanted to feel guilty about the manipulation she was attempting. “I get it, though. You’re in a committed thing and smart. Cautious, even. You don’t really trust me, and I completely understanding. I told you not to, after all.”

She pulled out the baggie with the solitary cookie she had separated from the batch for the pure purpose of tempting him down the rabbit hole. “Don’t take cookies from girl’s who work at the Isle. Like I said, smart.” She absently brought the cookie to her mouth, winking. “More for me then.”

His hand was quick as lightening when he liberated it from her fingers. He took a large bite, eyes determined and lit with a fire that made something in her heat. Her dormant libido was suddenly alive as he took care in enjoying the treat she’d offered. His eyes closed slowly and his moan of satisfaction that promised things she hadn’t realised she’d wanted until a week ago. Things only he could give and she was fairly certain he would give her them.

“How is it?”

Her hand tightened on his forearm as he met her gaze intently. “It’s warm and soft.” He manoeuvred her stool so she was very nearly between his legs. “Shit. Sweet. Are those walnuts?”

She nodded and licked her lips. The sound of the simple swear word falling from his lips on a breathy growl had her ready to go. The two previous times they’d talked he hadn’t said anything close to a curse and had actually said “shoot” when he’d dropped a napkin. It was oddly arousing to hear him worked up enough that he was dropping his good boy act.

“You want more?” She took the cookie from him and dropped it back in its baggy. “Just say the word, handsome.”

Suddenly, he was behind her. As he trapped her against the bar, arms caging her in on either side, she felt his hard chest against her. It thrilled her. She even gasped when his nose skimmed her neck through her hair.

“You think I wouldn’t want it? Have you seen you?” He moved in closer. She wanted to encourage him further but also wanted to see where he was taking this. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you arguing with the manager. You’re a faerie from my darkest dreams here to tempt me to take a bite of your cursed fruit.” He chuckled and she felt it to her core. “Cookies, more rather. Do you want me to take another bite, my dark faerie?”

“Yes.”

He made a rumbling sound so severe she felt it. It passed through his chest, down her back and straight to her blooming desire. “You don’t know what it’ll mean. I’m not the man you think I am. If I was I wouldn’t be considering this.” His hands moved from the bar to her thighs where he used them to hold her in place as he pressed more firmly against her. “I wouldn’t have come here last week. I wouldn’t have stayed. I wouldn’t have been ready to commit ritual sacrifice for a chance to see you outside of this place before I happened to find you this morning. Do you want to know what I thought when I first saw you? When I first laid eyes on your ass in those lycra capris?”

His hands slid up her thighs, teasing the hem of her skirt. “I wanted to coral you against the console of that treadmill, just like I’m doing now.” His fingers dipped to her inner thighs and she shuddered. “Do you know how easy it would have been for me to lose control?”

Her head lolled back and his nose just skimmed her neck with the barest of touch, making her shiver. “Say you want it. Tell me you want it.” She gave strangled assent as he urged her legs apart enough for him to ghost his thumb against her panties. “I need something else, though. A few somethings. If we’re doing this I need more than your offer of warm and moist cookies.”

He punctuated his words with a hard press of his thumb to her fabric covered sex. “I need your name. Just your first name will do.” Her head was foggy as he began to circle his thumb, causing her hips to twitch forward in encouragement. “That’s a good girl. Now, after that, I’m going to need you to beg.”

She wondered briefly if she should feel ashamed of herself. She was letting him not just feel her up, but possibly get her off right there at the bar where she worked. Then a cacophony of music and cat calls breached her lust induced haze and she laughed. He chuckled, too, seemingly in on the joke that this was the Isle and there was no shame in anything.

“Can you give me that?” With that, his hands were off her. She wiped her head around, eyes flashing as he retreated from her, smiling his endearing half smile. “Can you do those simple things for me, Bertha?”

She startled awake. She was startled not only by the dream but the body next her. She looked over to see Evie had climbed into bed with her and was currently snuggled in close. It was what she always did when her dreams were too much and she was feeling alone or scared. She done it since they were kids and their mothers had to split rent until Evie’s mom found another temporary John to foot their bill.

Hands shaking, she grappled her phone on the night stand. Swallowing down her growing anxiety, she texted Carlos to scrap the set changes. She wasn’t going to be like her mother.

That night, she ignored him as he watched her sing from his place at the bar. He stayed her whole set, waiting patiently for her to come over. He waited as she talked with regulars during her 10 minute break.

She ignored and avoided him through it all.

“You made an impression on someone.” Evie smiled at her reflection as she cleaned herself up after her set was finished. “He left you a tip.”

She placed a $100 on the vanity Mal was using and winked with an excited giggle. Mal watched her head back to the floor before looking down at the bill. It had a number on it.

She stormed from the club. He didn’t follow her, and she was equal parts disappointed and relieved that he seemed to have been satisfied with how the night had played out. She analysed herself in the mirror after she was showered and rid of the Isle’s stink at home. She wanted to see what he saw and squash. Whatever part of her that made her appealing to him had to be a weakness that could be exploited and it had to go.

“Damn him.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to put a rare disclaimer on this work. I don't intend to fall into the trap of explaining myself when I post on this site. That being said I am going to say this story is my first foray into adult themes, especially for these characters. I wanted to try my hand at expanding my writing capabilities. Sorry to use you all as test subjects. Since it's new territory I am going to make one request for critiques. Thank you for reading.


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